Keeping a Promise: Strength of the Heart
by Flyingshadow451
Summary: The end of World War II is imminent. Germany feels guilty for not being strong enough to protect his people from his cruel leader, so he becomes desperate to try and protect Italy from the Allies' wrath by breaking their pact. Interpret as you may.


A/N: Hello! I just started watching Hetalia two nights ago with my sister. It. Is. Awesome! Here is a fanfiction about it! Hope you enjoy!

I do not own Hetalia (if I did, why would I write a fanfiction?!)

...

"G-germany?" The chestnut-haired nation asked tentatively. The taller man said nothing as the barbed gates opened inward, admitting the two inside the eerily silent place. Italy glanced about him nervously, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He wanted to move closer to Germany, to shield himself with his strength, but the strong nation emitted an intense, unfamiliar aura that scared him. The blond finally halted, staring straight ahead with his piercing blue eyes with his shoulders set stiffly. Italy paused beside him and took a moment to observe the desolate lot of land.

It was dull and lifeless. There were large gray buildings littered about, but there was not one soul to be seen, no matter how hard the solemn nation tried. Behind a copse of washed-out trees, he could see a huge chimney, currently smoking. The ground was a muddied mess, recent evidence of a large movement of people. It dirtied Italy's leather shoes.

"Germany?" He asked again in his innocent voice. He tried to be cheerful, "Have you taken me here to train some more?"

The blond man finally broke out of his distant trance. He met Italy's amber gaze and the smaller nation felt utterly perturbed by what he saw in those sky blue eyes. He saw a heavy storm rolling in, clouding over the intense glare of the sun that was Germany's soul.

"We're not going to train anymore, Italy," The tall nation replied softly, resting a gloved hand on the confused man's shoulder, "The war is over. My boss deserted me... he took his life so that he doesn't have to repent for his actions. I will pay for it in his stead... Italy, you need to break away now, before you are dragged down with me."

The smaller nation's eyes were wide, "I don't understand, what did your boss do that was so bad?"

Germany sighed It was a long deep sigh that carried years of pain and heavy burden, heavy decisions... "This place, it used to be filled with people. People who were just like us. People who believed in their nation's strength. People who just wanted to go home. People who hated this damned war. My boss, though, he didn't like them..."

Italy cocked his head to the side, a little confused, "Where are they now?"

A gloved finger pointed at the chimney, "They are all there... I didn't come in time..." his lips twitched into a bitter smile, "Once again, my strength failed to protect my people. At my boss's last minute orders, these people who still believed in me were brutally slaughtered... l-like animals..." his deep voice cracked, "And now they are being used for the bonfire, in _his_ memory..."

Italy watched in horror as the nation suddenly collapsed onto his knees and covered his face with his hands. His broad shoulders, once so straight and firm, now trembled with grief. His uniform, once so crisp and clean, was now spattered with mud. Germany, once so powerful and tall, now sobbed, completely broken.

Italy never felt so lost before, not even when Grandpa Rome disappeared.

"Germany...?" he whispered, not quite believing the sight before him. He had seen Germany tortured before by the Allies; he had been beaten several times, but he always just grinned his bloody grin at his foes and taunted them bravely. He had no idea that his friend had been plagued by a whole different kind of agonizing torture, had been slowly splitting at the seams that kept him together, that kept him _Germany_.

"Italy..." Germany gritted his teeth and raised his head, forcing his voice to keep from breaking again. Tears were present in his eyes, but he refused to let them spill. The smaller nation realized with a lurch in his gut that even now, in this pathetic state, he was _still _trying to be strong. Germany bowed his head and set his jaw, "Leave me now. Please give me the peace of mind that at least my friend is safe, if not my people-"

The blond man blinked in shock when he felt warm arms wrapping around his shaking form and a warm breath stirring the hair on top of his head. His embrace was gentle, but when Germany raised his head, he flinched at the intense anger in Italy's amber eyes.

"How could you even think that I would just abandon you!" his voice was soft, but the words were caustic, "I am your friend, and you are my friend. We stay with each other, no matter what happens! You don't have to be alone..."

Germany was speechless. Never before had he seen Italy like this. He knew that Italians were renowned for their passion, but he never witnessed it in person. The smaller nation squeezed him so hard, determined to get his point through to the stubborn country. Finally, after a long moment, the tension in Germany disappeared and the man buried his face into Italy's jacket. The tears that he held back for so long finally spilled. The guilt he felt for the deaths of so many people finally found an outlet. Italy silently held his friend, his jacket gratefully soaking up every tear, every grievance.

"You see," he gently murmured, "I'm keeping the promise I made. Whenever I'm in a pinch, you always came to help, no matter how ridiculous. Now, I'm helping you in your pinch."

...

He didn't know how long they sat there in the mud, but the two nations released each other almost simultaneously in a silent agreement. Germany rose, and reached out a hand to the smaller country to help him up. The tall man glanced back at the chimney, which had stopped smoking a while ago. His heart clenched, but the pain he felt was not nearly as bad as it had been before.

The sunlight managed to break through the blanket of clouds here and there, warming the nations' faces with its touch. Germany glanced down at Italy, who had returned to his carefree attitude. His eyes were squinted and he lolled his chestnut head side to side, beginning to hum softly to himself.

Germany turned around and made his way across the deserted lot back toward the open gates. Each step he took was heavy. The blond man could never forget the gruesome actions that had taken place here, but he would try to remain strong and somehow make up for it. Italy shadowed him, like he always did, a grin spreading across his tan face.

"Italy?" Germany asked, his voice still hoarse, "I have to go to the meeting to discuss the terms of my surrender... it's not too late."

The nation just smiled, "I haven't changed my mind."

Germany sighed, "What are you going to do once I return?"

He didn't even hesitate, "I'm going to make some pasta! It'll be so yummy! You'll need it for whatever the Allies have in store for you."

The tall man frowned, but his eyes were bright with amusement, "Pasta-freak..."

Italy pouted, but a laugh bubbled in his chest, "Germany is so mean to me..."

"You'd be helpless without me," The large nation punched him lightly on the arm, making him yelp.

In retaliation, he jumped on him and gave him a hug, "Back at you! Weren't you just crying a little while ago?"

"S-shut up!" Germany stuttered, cheeks flaming. As the two nations passed the barbed fence, the blond man suddenly had an epiphany. While he was strong in his military strength and physical size, Italy had a whole other kind of strength, one that was much more admirable. He possessed the strength of the heart.

...

A/N: I really hope that I kept them in character... Please tell me your thoughts!


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